Riding the Lightening
by Graveygraves
Summary: Jacob Dawes successfully got under his skin, Sarah Jean made the ultimate sacrifice for her son. It was far from the average day at the office. Post ep one-shot, rated T for mild language.


**Riding the Lightening**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**I was watching this episode the other night and really felt sorry for Hotch – hence this one shot. I thought this was probably the most emotional that we see Hotch – the stoic facade definitely slips at times. **

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Hotch: **Riley . . . You lose!

. . .

The journey to the nearby motel was taken in silence, the polar opposite of all the business like chat they had shared on the way into what should have been a series of death row interviews. A last chance to gain the missing information and an explanation that might finally give closure to the families left behind. Now no-one knew quite what to say in response to the events. Hotch glanced at Morgan as he drove, at least the younger agent had the drive to concentrate on and save him from wallowing on all they had witnessed today.

Turning away, he faced the passing scenery that blurred to a smudge of bland colours. His mind was miles from their current location, and back inside the building they had just left. As he thought of the death he had watched first hand, the bile rose in his throat. He was firm in his thoughts on the death penalty and that was not the issue here. To be honest there were times today Hotch would have happily flicked the switch himself, hell he was close to using his bare hands at more than one point. No what troubled him, and likely all the team, was the circumstances surrounding the countdown to justified death of a serial killer and the willing suicide of his unwilling accomplice.

As they pulled into the nearly full underground garage, Morgan found a space and they exited the vehicle. Walking towards the elevator, the rest of the team joined Hotch and those who had travelled with him. Still no-one said a word; it was obvious from the faces of the team that they were all buried in their personal thoughts.

Standing waiting for the elevator to descend, Hotch noticed the gentle sway of Reid as he rocked back on his heels and forward again. By the look on his face the self soothing action was doing little to ease the genius' mind. Next to him Elle was beside him, though it was obvious that she may be physically with the team, mentallly she was somewhere else.. Morgan had slung his arm around Pen who was peacefully snuggled into his side, neither needed to say a word their support for each other was that solid. JJ's face was a passive mask that hid the depth of her emotions, much like his own, the opposite of Gideon who wore his concern clearly for all to see.

The bing of the elevator door opening snapped Hotch back to the present. They filed into the lift together and then exited once they reached the appropriate floor. Following his team down the corridor he made the effort to bring them all together before they went their separate ways.

"Meet for breakfast at 8, seeing it has been a late one."

Everyone nodded before heading to their separate rooms; all accept Morgan and Garcia who were still attached to each other as they entered Morgan's room.

Opening the door to his own room, Hotch pulled at his tie to free himself of it as he dropped his briefcase onto the bed, and the tie scrunched up beside it. A quick twist of the top button and his collar was undone, and a shrug of his shoulders had his dark suit jacket pooled on the bed by his discarded tie and case.

A few quick strides and he was in front of the small fridge that housed the rooms mini bar, reaching inside Hotch checked the contents. He pulled out a small bottle; he was not impressed that he would be paying over the odds for such cheap whisky. May be he should consider carrying a bottle of the better stuff in his 'go bag' for days like this. Though that did smack of desperation to Hotch and might not be seen as a wise decision in others' eyes.

Cracking the lid with a swift twist he poured the meagre contents into the plastic tumbler he had retrieved from the bathroom. One swift gulp and it was gone, burning a path to his empty stomach. Hotch wince slightly – the harsh liquid a contrast to the smoother malts that he preferred.

Reaching for a second he poured again, taking this one over to the window with him. Standing, glass in hand; he watched the headlights of the sporadic passing traffic. His eyes might be tracking the vehicles but his mind was busy replaying the day.

Hotch couldn't pinpoint the precise moment Jacob Dawes had managed to get under his skin, but he had well and truly wormed his way in. And once there he had caused a major irritation. Hotch prided himself on the fact he could keep his cool; after all it was what had made him so successful both in the courtroom and the interview room. However that was not the case today.

Today he had barely managed to contain the fact that his blood was boiling the below the surface. And to make it worse he knew that his colleagues had seen it too. Worse still Jacob was fully aware that he was succeeding in aggravating him.

Today had been a game to Jacob, one last chance to feed his egotistical nature. His narcissistic personality enjoying exerting one last power trip; before he relinquished all control in the chair. Jacob had no intention of giving them any additional information. Hotch knew that as a diagnosed psychopath, Jacob was incapable of showing compassion, or any other emotion. He didn't care about the families need for answers, to be able to finally have closure. In fact he relished the fact that even in death he continued to impact on so many people's lives.

And that fact alone was why Hotch had been so pleased that the last thing Jacob had seen was a picture of his living son. Sending that bastard to hell with him knowing he had not had full control over Sarah Jean, that for all these years she had deceived him. That had been worth everything.

Knowing that, if there was such a thing as an afterlife, Jacob would burn eternally not knowing if Sarah Jean had face execution or if she had received a reprieve. As surly they would not meet hereafter as Hotch to believe that, having not allowed them to gain a stay of execution, Sarah Jean's sacrifice had earned her a place in heaven. Finally away from the man who had made her life on Earth a living hell.

As a new father, Hotch was already painfully aware of the lengths a parent would go to in protecting them. There was nothing he wouldn't do to ensure Jack's safety, nothing. And today he had witnessed first-hand the unconditional love of a mother. Sarah Jean had actively given her own life so that her son may continue to live a normal life, unaffected by the knowledge of his notorious birth parents.

Riley could have the chance in life she never had.

Swallowing the last of the whisky, Hotch closed the blinds, placing the glass beside his bed and kicking off his shoes, Hotch settled, fully dressed, for what was left of the night.

Tomorrow he would compile his report, tomorrow would be a fresh new day. Tomorrow, he was certain, would bring its own challenges, as would every day after.

. . .

"Sometimes when you sacrifice something precious, you're not really losing it. You're just passing it on to someone else."  
**Mitch Albom****, Author**


End file.
